Darkness Surrounding
by Ronan
Summary: I'm not very good with summaries, so I'll make this brief... This is a darker Draco and Hermine romance story, need I say more? Rated R for later chapters (Lemon).


Darkness Surrounding  
  
Hello everybody :-D, as you can see I started my new story, Darkness Surrounding. I've wanted to write this for a while now, but I've been too busy with my other story, Contrasting Glances, which I am co-authoring with my best friend. This story is going to be a lot darker, although CG wasn't that fluffy to begin with. Anyway, enjoy (and remember more reviews = more frequent updates ^_^ )  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, although I wished I owned Draco.  
  
Chapter 1: Tormented Delusion   
  
Dark red blood ran down her wrist and fell in ruby drops glistening on her bed. The blood proved she was still alive, it was the only thing that did. Hermione glared at the blood-stained knife lying in front of her, It's cruel blade glistening in the evening sun's dying light. She despised the knife, and yet she needed it. Needed it because because it supplied a pain she could control, one she could comprehend. Hermione picked up the blade and ran it across her wrist, relishing the pain as she watched her blood flow down her wrist with a gruesome satisfaction.  
  
"Hermione, Get your lazy ass down here this second!" Her father yelled from down the stairs. Hearing this she wiped the knife clean on her black shirt, and put it away in it's case under her bed. She went down the stairs not looking forward to facing the man who had made her life a living hell.   
  
When her mom died in a tragic fire a year ago, Hermione's father had gone mad with grief. Soon after, he started taking out his anger on her. She hated her father with a cold blooded passion, yet he was still her father. The pain caused by the abuse at the hands of someone you once thought loved you was just simply too much for Hermione to bear. As time passed she felt like she was dying inside, as though all her hope was gone, her soul was dead. But is a person truly ever beyond reach, if someone cares enough to try?  
  
"What is it?" Hermione asked as she came down the stairs. She immediately noticed he had been drinking, she needed to get away before he lost his temper again. She still had the bruises from the last time he beat her. 'Just don't make him mad,' she thought to herself. "You go to Hogwarts tomorrow?" he asked. "Yes," Hemione replied, trying to speak as little as possible. She was a strong person, but her father scared her. "Good, I'll be glad to have you out of my sight, worthless bitch." Hermione didn't answer, she was used to his degrading comments. "Alright then Father, I'll be going up to bed," Hermione said as she started to climb the stairs.  
  
All of a sudden her father grabbed her wrist, and yanked her back down the stairs. "I didn't give you permission to leave!" He yelled, his face mere inches away from hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, which sickened her. "What? What else is there to tell me?!" she cried. "Shut up, don't you dare backtalk," he warned coldly, raising his hand in a threatening manner. Hermione shrunk to the foot of the stairs in fear of what he might do. To her relief he let her go, so she quickly ran to her room and locked herself in.  
  
Hermione sat on her bed, and looked around her room. Her trunk sat on the floor, packed and ready for tomorrow. The thought of returning to Hogwarts was her only shred of hope in the shroud of darkness surrounding her. She couldn't wait to see Harry and Ron, and everyone else, people who actually cared about her. Those happier thoughts filled her head as she got ready for bed, and slowly drifted off into a troubled sleep.  
  
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Many miles away at Malfoy Manor, Draco sat on his bed, feeling in many ways as miserable as Hermione. The cause of his troubles was his upcoming initiation into Voldermort's ranks, as a death eater. Draco was in many ways the same self-absorbed, cold person he was his whole life. However, he didn't like the idea of him joining Voldermort. He viewed the Dark Lord as a foolish hypocrite, not worthy of his respect. He was abhorred by the idea of having to kiss Voldermort's ass for the rest of his life, as he often put it. His father was heavily pressuring him to join Voldermort. Draco was sick of his father controlling his life. His parents weren't abusive, but simply put, they just didn't care, except when it involved their image. Draco had his mind set, this was the one decision he would make for himself. He would never join the Dark Lord.  
  
Draco decided some fresh air might ease his troubled mind. He grabbed his Firebolt from his closet, and brought it to his open window. He mounted his broom and took of into the cold night air.   
  
Over the years Draco had become a very talented seeker. Flying was his one escape from life, and he enjoyed it thoroughly. He looped around the dark bodies of water surrounding the manor for miles, attempting some complicated aerial dives. It was a clear night out, the stars and moon reflected off the water, it was surreal. Draco took a minute to admire this before he flew back to the Manor.  
  
When he returned to his room, he found that the house elves had packed all his belongings into his trunk. Draco was happy to be returning to Hogwarts. The school was always more of a home to him than the manor, although his pride would never let him admit it. He had already arranged to meet his friends on the train, when he traveled to platform 9 ¾ tomorrow morning. Crabbe and Goyle weren't very bright, but at least they listened, which was more than he could say for his parents.  
  
As soon as he was sure everything was ready for the trip to Kings Cross in the morning, he went through his usual nightly regime and finally went bed. 


End file.
